<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>It'll All Be Fine by 221BroadwayIron</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26539144">It'll All Be Fine</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/221BroadwayIron/pseuds/221BroadwayIron'>221BroadwayIron</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>My Brother, My Friend [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - College/University, Daycare, Foster Care, Gen, Harley Keener is a Good Bro, Hurt/Comfort, Kid Fic, Kid Harley Keener, Kid Peter Parker, MIT Era, Panic Attacks, Peter Parker Has a Bad Day, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Protective Harley Keener, Realistic Depictions of Foster Care, Student Tony Stark, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark is Good With Kids, Tony Stark is trying his best, poor kid</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 08:48:21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,817</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26539144</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/221BroadwayIron/pseuds/221BroadwayIron</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Hey, Petey-pie. How we doin’, buddy?”</p><p>No response, only worryingly fast breaths that caught in Peter’s throat and made him start coughing.</p><p>“Take a deep breath,” interjected the teacher, looking over at Tony. “One big breath.”</p><p>Why was she looking at him like that? Did she think he had a plan? Because Tony had no clue what he was doing. No clue. </p><p>----------</p><p>Or, Peter has a really rough day at daycare. Tony is tasked with going to pick him up and make it better.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Harley Keener &amp; Peter Parker, Harley Keener &amp; Tony Stark, May Parker (Spider-Man) &amp; Tony Stark, Peter Parker &amp; Tony Stark</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>My Brother, My Friend [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1873138</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>44</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>363</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Irondad and his Iron kids</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>It'll All Be Fine</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>As always, no beta, so forgive any mistakes! There's lots of comfort and cuddling in this, so I hope you enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>The worst thing about this class was the notes. <em> Seriously</em>. If Tony had to scribble down any more complicated equations and try to squish their equally complex explanations into the margins, he was pretty sure his hand was going to fall off. He was already massaging the muscles in it each time the professor paused. For the second time in as many seconds, his phone began vibrating in his pocket, and he finally pulled it out to check the caller ID. </p><p> </p><p>May.</p><p> </p><p><em> Hey, I’m in class right now </em> , he texted her under the desk, simultaneously ignoring the side-eye Rhodey was shooting at him and trying to pay attention to his profs explanation of a particularly troublesome differential. <em> Call you when I’m done</em>.</p><p> </p><p>She probably just needed him to watch the kids for a couple hours this weekend or something. Because now, apparently, Tony Stark was a babysitter.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>May did not need a babysitter.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Please </em> tell me you can go pick up Peter,” she spilled out frantically, answering the phone on the first ring. “He’s having a really rough day and the daycare called me and I can’t get off until at least 3 and I don’t know what else to do—”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s okay, May, I’ll get him,” Tony reassured her, “I don’t have anymore classes today. I’ll pick him up, take him to your house, we can watch a movie or something.”</p><p> </p><p>“Are you sure? You’re sure. Thank you, <em> thank you</em>. I really didn’t want to have to leave him there, but neither Ben nor I can go get him… Stop by the hospital on the way over to get his car seat. And the key. I— Thank you so much, Tony.”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re welcome, it’s no problem. Bye, May.”</p><p> </p><p>“Bye.” <em> Click</em>.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey, honeybear, we’re going to have to move our study date with that cute guy from the library.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Like Tony, May was a rambler. But May, unlike Tony, had not spent the majority of her life trying to break the habit. She kept up a constant stream of talk while they were moving Peter’s carseat into Tony’s expensive (and very fast) car and while she worked the house key off her key ring to give him.</p><p> </p><p>“Ben’s getting one made for you,” she explained, tongue poking out in concentration as she forced the key chain apart, as though this was something normal, as though she hadn’t just said that they trusted him, Tony Stark, general menace and disappointment, enough to give him a <em> key to their house. </em> “Then we won’t have to do this each time you watch the boys. He’s going to take the key in this weekend, I think?</p><p> </p><p>“And I don’t know— They didn’t really say <em> what’s </em> going on with Peter, except I know he did skin his knee outside earlier because Ms. Carol texted me and he’s… I told them you’re coming; I wish I could get off. It’s probably almost nap there, so they might want you to just get him out of the room so the kids can go to sleep, but I don’t know. You can ask them. Try and calm him down if you can…</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, but the biggest thing is <em> don’t leave him alone</em>, okay?”</p><p> </p><p>“Okay,” Tony called, his top half now stuck in the back seat of the Audi so that he could wrestle the carseat in place. He remembered more or less how the straps went. He thought.</p><p> </p><p>“He’ll freak,” she continued. There was a chink of keys. “I mean, Petey’s clingy at the best of times—Harley is too—but just… Their biological family was, well, a piece of work and then their first foster mom would just leave them in, like, a pack ‘n play or something all day while she was cleaning or making dinner or whatever. And that kind of… <em> you know </em> . He probably won’t even let <em> go </em> of you but… I… just in case…”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s <em> okay</em>, May.” He extracted himself from the car and gave her a comforting smile. “I’m going to go pick up Peter; we’ll be okay. I’ll text you lots of updates. Try not to worry, alright?”</p><p> </p><p>“I still worry.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know you do.” He took the proffered house key. “It’ll all be fine, though.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Tony had never had to go to the daycare proper, which he didn’t realize until he pulled up there. He knew the rooms where they usually had the MBMF events, but that was it, and those were all in one small section. The whole building, he knew, had three floors and babies all the way up to middle schoolers. Harley and Peter were someplace in the middle of all of this. But where?</p><p> </p><p>He stuck his head in the first door he came to, only to have 8 little baby heads turn his way. One started to cry.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, uh, sorry…”</p><p> </p><p>“Hi, can I help you?” asked a lady, getting out of her rocking chair to scoop up the fussy baby.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, uh, I’m looking for Peter? He’s three.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yup. Up the stairs at the end of the hall, then the Threes are in the first door on the left.”</p><p> </p><p>“Thanks.”</p><p> </p><p>Her directions weren’t too hard to follow, and soon he was hesitantly pushing open another door to find a dozen kids either finishing up the remnants of lunch or laying down on nap mats. Several were already asleep. A teacher looked over expectantly. Behind her back, MJ turned to stick her tongue out at him. At least now Tony knew he was in the right place.</p><p> </p><p>“Hi, I’m here for Peter? I think May said she called—”</p><p> </p><p>“TONY!” came a yell. There was a scramble and a head of caramel-colored hair appeared over the top of one of the tables. Harley gave Tony a huge hug when the teenager picked him up, before squirming to get down again. </p><p> </p><p>“My Pedah,” he said anxiously, yanking Tony by the hand through a maze of colorful pint-sized chairs to the far wall. “He’p my Pedah.”</p><p> </p><p>That’s where Peter was, scrunched into a tight ball near the cabinets in the corner of the room. Tony hadn’t even been able to see him from the door, but now he could hear the boy’s shuddering gasps and the quiet voice of a second teacher crouched a few paces away from him, whispering reassurances. </p><p> </p><p>With anxiety twisting in his gut, Harley tugged him right up to Peter, and then let go of Tony’s hand to crouch next to his twin brother, so close their knees knocked together.</p><p> </p><p>“Wait, Harls—” Peter might need space. The teacher was giving him space. He shot a nervous glance at the other lady, but she merely shrugged at him. She seemed to be just as out of her element as Tony was. He couldn’t decide whether it was comforting to be in the same boat or distressing that nobody knew what to do. Except, apparently, for Harley.</p><p> </p><p>“Pedah, Tony. Got Tony, see?” The boy took Peter’s arm in a gesture that was undeniably protective and very cute. He pointed vigorously in the teenager’s direction. Hoping for the best, Tony knelt down near them.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey, Petey-pie. How we doin’, buddy?”</p><p> </p><p>No response, only worryingly fast breaths that caught in Peter’s throat and made him start coughing.</p><p> </p><p>“Take a deep breath,” interjected the teacher, looking over at Tony. “One big breath.”</p><p> </p><p>Why was she looking at him like that? Did she think <em> he </em> had a plan? Because Tony had no clue what he was doing. No clue. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Don’t crowd him, let the kids come to you. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Peter, can… can you come here, kiddo?” Then at least they could get away from the curious looks of a room full of three- and four- year olds. “Come over here, it’s just me. It’s Tony. It’s okay.”</p><p> </p><p>Harley tugged Peter’s arm and finally the kid’s tearstained eyes looked up, though his face was still partially hidden because he had the knuckles of both his hands shoved into his mouth to suck on. Tony’s heart hurt at his expression. How did he make him understand that there wasn’t anything to worry about? He was <em> three </em>.</p><p> </p><p>“There you are, buddy.” The college student stretched out an arm. “I need you to come over here, ‘kay? Come right here and I can give you a big hug, alright?”</p><p> </p><p>Harley pulled on his brother again until finally, <em> finally </em> the boy stood up and stumbled hesitantly toward Tony. Even before Peter had reached him, Tony was drawing him tightly against his chest and running a hand over his back. This, at least, felt a bit more familiar. The small body in his arms, the curly hair tickling his neck, even the growing dampness on his shirt collar. He could almost pretend that Peter had just fallen off a chair again and nothing more.</p><p> </p><p>If only.</p><p> </p><p>Peter locked his arms around Tony’s neck and pressed his face into his collar bone. </p><p> </p><p>“G-g-go ‘ome,” he stuttered.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, Pete, we’re goin’ home.” Wrapping both arms around the boy, Tony rose and turned towards one of the teachers—Ms. Carol, May had said, right? (Was she the blonde one? Or was that the other one?)</p><p> </p><p>“You’re good to take him,” she said, brushing over Peter’s curls with her fingertips. “May already told me about everything. You just go take care of Peter, yeah?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, thank you, ma’am.”</p><p> </p><p>“Me too? I comin’?” Harley asked.</p><p> </p><p>“Sorry, squirt, I’m just taking Peter right now. I’ve got to go make sure he feels better, right?” His face fell and Tony felt like a jerk. He knelt down as best he could. “Give him a big hug, okay? Tell him to feel better.”</p><p> </p><p>Harley launched himself at his brother. He was quickly followed by a chubby Philipino kid, who Tony recognized because he and the twins played together all the time, but couldn’t remember the name of.</p><p> </p><p>“You gotta feel better so soon ‘cause we gotta play!” The kid said, tugging exuberantly on Peter’s shirt. Tony pried his hand off.</p><p> </p><p>“Thanks, I’ll bet he appreciated that. I’m going to take him home now, alright?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, sir!” The Philipino kid squeaked, bouncing back and snatching up the sandwich he’d abandoned on a chair. </p><p> </p><p>In the background, MJ rolled her eyes and made a face. “Yeah, you’d better play with them so I don’t have to.”</p><p> </p><p>Both of their teachers' expressions landed someplace between embarrassed and exasperated, and if it hadn’t been for the situation with Peter, Tony would have laughed. That was just like the wild-haired little rebel. She was a piece of work. Nat was so proud.</p><p> </p><p>Harley’s eyes filled with tears, lip quivering, as Ms. Carol pulled his arms away from his brother and picked him up instead. “My Pedah,” he whimpered, now clutching her necklace in his fist. “Go wif’ my <em>Pedah</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m going to go take really good care of him, ‘kay, Harls?” Tony ruffled the twin’s hair. “I’ll see you later, buddy.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Nobody stopped Tony on the way out, though he got several sympathetic looks from other teachers and a few parents. As he wrestled the front door open with one hand and excessive hip usage, Peter raised a blotchy, damp face.</p><p> </p><p>“H-Ha’ley,” he mumbled. “Tony, hi. Where my Har’ley?”</p><p> </p><p>“He’s staying at school for awhile,” Tony replied, praying he wasn’t about to set the kid off. He quickly hopped out of the way before the door could clip his heels. “Ben’s going to get your Harley later.”</p><p> </p><p>“My Ha’ley.” The boy rubbed his cheek against Tony’s sweatshirt shoulder, sniffling, and unraveled one arm so he could put his fingers in his mouth. The other one had relaxed enough to pick up stroking his shoulder blade.</p><p> </p><p>“Yup, your Harley.” Tony started trying to extract his keys from his pants pocket, but they had somehow gotten too twisted up in the fabric to pull out with only one hand. (And it didn’t help that he hadn’t had the foresight to put them on the left side where he wasn’t already carrying a 30 pound child.) </p><p> </p><p>There was no way around it. He was going to have to put Peter down. </p><p> </p><p>“I’m going to set you on the ground for a sec, alright? It’ll just be a little bit.” Tony bent over.</p><p> </p><p>Peter squealed. “NO!” He tried to grab on tighter, but Tony had already untangled himself from the boy grasping fingers and his keys and was unlocking the car door at top speed. </p><p> </p><p><em> It’s fine, we’re fine, everything’s just peachy</em>, he chanted in his head, willing nobody to come investigate Peter’s loud screams. Sucking on his lip in frustration, Tony jimmied the key to get the mechanism to unlock. Why wasn’t the stupid thing turning? </p><p> </p><p>“—<em>Up</em>, Tony, p-pick up! No <em>n-n-no</em>. No DOWN! Up, <em>uh-uh-uh up</em>—” It was mixed in with wordless cries that echoed off the parked cars and made Tony's hands shake with adrenaline.</p><p> </p><p>Something wet dripped onto his forehead. Oh for the love of— Now was <em> not </em> a good time for it to finally start raining. He let out a growl of frustration and only narrowly avoided the temptation to slam his fist through the window. Screw it all. He needed to get back to Peter. Out of the corner of his eye, Tony could see the boy and hear his frighteningly laborious breaths. </p><p> </p><p>“Go ‘ome, guh-o, <em> Tony </em>—” His ramble was broken off by a choking cough.</p><p> </p><p><em> C’mon, c’mon… Yes! </em> </p><p> </p><p>The key clicked under Tony’s sweaty fingers even as several more rain drops landed on his forearm. He yanked open his door, just in time to hear Peter’s coughing turn into retching, followed by the distinctly unpleasant sound of vomit splattering against pavement. It was followed by more choking coughs.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Tony rambled anxiously, tossing his keys onto the seat and snatching a leftover McDonald’s napkin from the center console. He did his best to wipe off Peter’s face with the help of the rainwater, but it was awkward. (Why had he never before thought to invest in something as useful as <em> wet wipes </em> ? May probably kept those in her car, probably kept some in her <em> purse </em> , not just cheap fast food napkins.) By some blessed <em> miracle </em> Peter hadn’t gotten anything on his clothes, but there was a stomach-turning pool inching closer to the kid’s feet. He dropped the now-soiled napkin into it and tried not to choke on the smell. </p><p> </p><p>“It’s okay, you’re okay, I’m here now. We’re fine, we’re fine, it’ll all be fine.” More rain sprinkled his hair as he spoke and scattered across the boy’s already wet face.</p><p> </p><p>Without giving himself time to think (because if he did he’d realize this kid just threw up and Tony Stark did not <em> do </em> throw up and he <em> certainly </em> not in his car), Tony rescued Peter from the sidewalk and less-than-gracefully slid both of them into the backseat. It was drier there, at least. And less prying eyes to watch his awkward, fumbling attempts at calming Peter down.</p><p> </p><p>“Breathe, Petey-pie, just breathe. You’re okay now, I promise. I’m so sorry. Let’s— Let’s do some slow breaths, okay?”</p><p> </p><p>With hands that were gentler than they’d ever been before, Tony carefully arranged Peter’s limp, unresisting limbs until his front was pressed flush against the college student’s chest and Tony could feel his heartbeat as a rapid flutter next to his own steadier (though only marginally so) one. He needed to calm Peter down and <em> now </em> before he got worked up enough to throw up again. Tony couldn’t do any more vomit. </p><p> </p><p>“Is that better, buddy?”</p><p> </p><p>What if Peter passed out? <em> That happens when people hyperventilate too much, right? </em> There was no way he couldn’t handle <em> that </em> either. What if—</p><p> </p><p> “We’re taking slow breaths now, so… Big breath in… And let it out…” To his relief, his voice, at least, was steady, even if Tony’s thoughts were still racing. His hand pressed against the boy’s back in an effort to make his chest rise and fall in time. “Good job, good job. Let’s do another one now, you’re doing so good…” Peter let out a quiet whimper. Tony’s thumb traced across the ridges of his spine. “You’re okay, you’re safe with me. I promise it’ll all be fine. Listen… Listen, Pete, can you hear that? Hear the rain?” The steady drum on the roof was growing heavier, into a comforting, thought-quieting blanket of sound.</p><p> </p><p>The boy mumbled something into the front of his MIT sweatshirt.</p><p> </p><p>“What, kiddo?” Tony brushed Peter’s damp curls off his forehead.</p><p> </p><p>“L-Loud,” he explained.</p><p> </p><p>A half-smile spread across the teenager’s face. “Yeah, buddy, it is kinda loud. But I think it’s kinda nice too.”</p><p> </p><p>It was nice. Lulled by the rain and the easy rhythm of their breathing, the adrenaline was slowly draining from Tony’s limbs. Peter relaxed more fully against him, nuzzling against his mentor’s even heartbeat. Someone passed on the sidewalk, sheltered underneath a yellow umbrella. In the distance, thunder rumbled, so quietly it was almost indistinct from the noise of far off traffic on the highway. Tony let out a slow breath. It would be nice to stay here, like this, but… </p><p> </p><p>“You ready to go home?” he murmured.</p><p> </p><p>Fabric rustled as Peter nodded. “Go n-now.”</p><p> </p><p>“Alright, let’s get you into your car seat then.”</p><p> </p><p>The boy allowed himself to be strapped in without protest, but he let out a whimper as Tony pulled away to scramble haphazardly over the console and into the front seat so that he wouldn’t have to go outside in the rain.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re fine, Pete,” the college student grunted as he collapsed into place, banged his leg into the steering wheel, and very nearly hit the horn with a wayward elbow. “I’m still right here.” Tony started the car, changing the radio station to one playing something quiet and classical. It just didn’t seem like a good time for Black Sabbath. (And it was <em> always </em> a good time for Black Sabbath.) He reached backwards to squeeze Peter’s hand comfortingly. “It’s okay, I promise I’m just up here.”</p><p> </p><p>Small fingers curled around Tony’s. He rubbed his thumb across Peter’s knuckles, wishing there was a safe way that he could hold Peter the whole way back to the Parker’s house. For now, this would have to do. (Listen to him, worried about a child’s safety and comfort. It was different. The Tony from a few months ago would have never even taken those into consideration, but that was also the Tony he told to shut up on a regular basis. That Tony could be kind of a jerk.) </p><p> </p><p>“Let’s go home.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Driving one handed was surprisingly difficult. Turning, especially, was a pain in the rear end, but Tony didn’t have the heart to try to reclaim his arm from Peter. After his meltdown, the kid was surprisingly calm. More likely, he wore himself out. Tony knew <em> he </em> was tired and he’d barely done anything.</p><p> </p><p>By the time they were pulling up in the Parker’s driveway, the rain was coming down hard and fast, but Tony was too ready to be inside (and he knew Peter was too) to let that deter him. Instead he rushed Peter from his car into the house as quickly as he could, and then bundled him out of his dripping clothes and into something warm and dry. Tony stripped off his sweatshirt down to the barely damp shirt beneath it, which was good enough for him. The MIT sweatshirt got slung over the back of a rocking chair with Peter’s wet clothes carefully draped across an ottoman next to it.</p><p> </p><p>Of course, he had to do all of that one handed too, because as soon as Peter was changed and had uncovered his bear from the depths of the bunk bed, he was insisting on being picked up again. And how, exactly, could Tony say no to those wide brown eyes, especially after the day they’d had?</p><p> </p><p>(He couldn’t.)</p><p> </p><p>Tony carried him into the kitchen and set Peter (and Teddy) on the counter while he rummaged around in May’s eternally messy cabinets for a sippy cup. Kids needed fluids, right? And Tony knew just how dehydrated throwing up could make somebody. At least those nights hanging over the toilet bowl for hours were good for <em> something</em>.</p><p> </p><p>There was something Ms. Ana used to make for him when he was sick… </p><p> </p><p>For an instant, Tony was hit full-force with the childhood memories of lying in his vast king bed with his mother’s cool hand brushing hair off of a fever-hot forehead. Ms. Ana would gently open the door in order to set a mug of her warm concoction on the bedside table and converse with Maria in low voices. He could almost feel her palm resting against his cheek next to his mother’s, telling him to drink up and feel better soon.</p><p> </p><p>Tony jerked back to the present with a shake of his head and yanked open the perpetually half-stuck door of their fridge. Now he regretted never asking Ms. Ana how she made it. There was lemon, he thought, but he didn’t know what else. Instead, Tony scanned the fridge for a replacement. Apple juice, that might work. Like cider, but kid-friendly.</p><p> </p><p>He poured some into a Buzz Lightyear sippy cup, stuck it in the microwave, and only then remembered that not all plastics were microwave safe. But it didn’t melt or anything, so he figured it was okay. Knowing May, it had likely already survived several accidental microwave trips.</p><p> </p><p>“Alright, buddy, movie time!” </p><p> </p><p>Somehow, Tony managed to balance Peter (who was, in turn, carrying his teddy and sippy cup of juice) with the two softest blankets he could find in the Parker’s basket of blankets and deposit all of them onto the couch as he unearthed the DVD for the anthropomorphic Disney version of Robin Hood that was a family favorite.</p><p> </p><p>The opening credits rolled across the screen as he tucked Peter under one of the blankets and settled onto the couch himself. Peter shoved the blanket off to crawl into Tony’s lap instead. Still clingy then, not that he’d expected much else.</p><p> </p><p>“Is that where you’re going to sit?” he asked. Peter nodded contentedly, sticking the sippy cup’s straw into his mouth and sucking on it. “Let’s get a little more comfortable, alright?” </p><p> </p><p>Carefully so as not to get tangled in the blankets, Tony stretched his legs out on the couch. Peter nestled securely between them, once again leaning against his mentor’s chest. He let go of his teddy for a minute in order to attempt to pull the edge of his blanket over Tony’s leg.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, thanks, Pete, now I’m all cozy.” He reached down to help the boy cover his toes.</p><p> </p><p>“Weh-come,” Peter responded around his sippy cup. He meticulously arranged Teddy on Tony’s stomach before laying his head down and melting against his mentor.</p><p> </p><p>Tony had never known anybody as cuddly as Peter was; even Harley would only cuddle when he was in the mood for it. And Tony, when he was a kid, well… </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Maria, stop coddling him. He needs to toughen up and realize he doesn’t always get his way.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “But—” </em>
</p><p> </p><p><em> “NO! D-Dad, I don’t </em> w-wanna <em> go!” </em></p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Anthony Edward, turn off the tears. This is not a choice.” A rough hand on the back of his neck, fixing the collar he’d mussed and forcing him out the door. “We’re leaving now.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>His childhood had been stilted good-night kisses and a pat on the shoulder when he had done something particularly well. Sometimes it had been a slap on the cheek when he did not. Hugs were few and far between, and Tony never would have dared to climb onto his parents laps, much less snuggle on the couch with them. His father was away too much for that anyway, whether it was the office or the other side of the world.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “They can’t know when they get to you. Present a firm front, son. Strong and confident. What’s inside stays inside. Show too much and they will tear you apart.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>But Howard wasn’t here.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Stark men are made of iron.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Tony adjusted a wrist jabbing him in the kidney and ran his fingers through the kid’s hair. He let out a contented huff. “There you go. Are we doing better now, buddy?” Again, Peter nodded, being careful not to dislodge Tony’s hand. “Good, I’m glad.”</p><p> </p><p>With his other hand, the college student snagged his phone off the coffee table to find he had several new texts from May. Guilt flooded his gut as he read through them.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> How’s Peter? Are you home yet? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Teddy’s on his bed. He’ll probably want him </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> I’ll be home by 3:45 I hope and Ben’s gonna pick up Harls &amp; pizza when he gets off so you’re welcome to stay </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> A nap might help if you think he’ll go down for it and I forgot to tell you he might puke if he gets too worked up </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Well, it was too late for <em> that </em> warning.</p><p> </p><p><em> We’re home, he’s doing good now, </em> Tony reassured her. He snapped a picture of the top of Peter’s head and his bear peeking out from under the edge of the blanket to text her. <em> He freaked out in the parking lot (puking included), but I think I got him calmed down and now he’s got Teddy and juice and Robin Hood. He might fall asleep? I dunno, he seems kinda tired </em></p><p> </p><p>May’s response came only a few seconds later, and Tony hated to think of her at the hospital anxiously waiting for his text while wishing she could be here herself. <em> Thanks so much, Tony. So sorry for making you deal with the vomit It didn’t get in your car, did it? He’s okay though? Sorry, I know he’s in good hands, I just worry.  </em></p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Hey, no problem, he’s fine now (And the car’s fine too) See you soon, May </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> You’re staying for pizza right? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Oh yes, I’m definitely staying for pizza </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The ridiculous smiley face May texted back made him snort. Craning his arm behind his head, Tony tossed his phone on the messy coffee table. It slid off and landed with a <em> thunk </em> on the carpet. He’d get that later. “Guess what, Petey-pie? After we watch this movie, May’s gonna be home!”</p><p> </p><p>Peter wriggled around to look at him. “My May?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, kiddo, your May.”</p><p> </p><p>“My Ha’ley an’ my Ben?”</p><p> </p><p>“They’re coming too.”</p><p> </p><p>“An’ my Tony too?”</p><p> </p><p>A fond smile spread across Tony’s face, even as his throat grew tight. He bopped the kid on the nose. “I’m staying right here with you.”</p><p> </p><p>Was there really any other answer to give?</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“Peter! Tony!” May called, kicking her shoes off by the door. She let her purse drop on top of them. “I’m home.”</p><p> </p><p>The TV was still on, though it was only playing the quiet disc menu music for their well-loved copy of Robin Hood. The rest of the house was still and silent. Peeking over a squashed throw pillow propped up against the couch’s armrest, May could just see a shock of dark hair that belonged to their resident college student.</p><p> </p><p>“Tony? Oh.”</p><p> </p><p>Walking closer, the rest of him came into view. Tony was sprawled across the couch cushions, knocked out in only the way a sleep-deprived college student <em> could </em> be. Pillowed on top of him was Peter, also sleeping soundly and with one of Tony’s hands still resting protectively on the back of his head. An empty sippy cup lay discarded on the floor, as did Tony’s phone (no wonder he hadn’t responded to her <em> I’m almost home </em> text) and half of one of the blankets the two had amassed on the couch for their movie session.</p><p> </p><p>May pulled out her own phone to snap a photo of them. Or two. Or three. Because they usually just spent time together at MBMF, there weren’t enough pictures in her life of Tony and the twins, who were absolutely adorable together. She sent several both to him and to Ben.</p><p> </p><p><em> Looks like our boys are doing alright</em>, her husband responded.</p><p> </p><p>Our boys.</p><p> </p><p>She smiled at that and then her grin widened as she noticed the careful way Tony had draped Peter’s clothes, which must have been wet from the rain, across their ottoman. He was such a sweet guy, despite the reputation he’d built for himself.</p><p> </p><p>Humming a little under her breath, May righted the cup and set both it and Tony’s phone on the coffee table, then straightened the blankets over their sleeping forms. She leaned down to kiss Peter on the forehead and reassure herself with the steady rise and fall of his back. Without thinking about it, her other hand brushed over Tony’s hair in a motherly gesture. She froze for an instant, wondering if she’d overstepped, but he just snuffled in his sleep and tilted his head into May’s palm.</p><p> </p><p>Yes, they were just fine.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <em> El fin. </em>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm thinking of incorporating other Avengers into this AU. Who would you like to see and/or see more of? I'm already planning one with Bucky and Steve in it. Any other suggestions? Let me know what you think!</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>